


How my skin willed a lie

by merrythoughts



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Episode: s02e11 Ko No Mono, Fantasizing, Ficlet, Hallucinations, Hurt, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Scars, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-01 05:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12149604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/pseuds/merrythoughts
Summary: In time, skin pulls itself back together. The human body is resilient. Or it can be. But it’s not luck that has your insides still inside.[Pre-story ficlets from thisverse]





	1. Fix your heart, fix your mind

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The pull is stronger than the push](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531478) by [Dapperscript](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dapperscript/pseuds/Dapperscript), [merrythoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/pseuds/merrythoughts). 



> Wanted some angst. This Will-incarnation is from The pull is stronger than the push series, but can be read alone!  
> Prequels from his PoV written in second-person voice bc I'm trash or whatever. I'll write more on this later, I think.

In time, skin pulls itself back together. The human body is resilient. Or it can be. But it’s not luck that has your insides still inside. Oh, no, no, no. Stitches may have closed the gash on your belly, but he didn’t really hurt you _there_ , did he? It’s a superficial wound in comparison to the damage left on your–

Where did the bad man touch you? Where did he hurt you?

(Your heart. Your mind. Everywhere, you would say.)

Guilt and regret war against the morphine drip. Your stream is waiting. You could put your head back – but you didn’t listen to him then and you don’t now.

_Drip. Drip._

But no, nothing dripped that night. The rain poured outside, heaven seeming content to cry whilst God watched another church collapse. It spurted. An already scarred throat ripped open. The Ripper doing what he did best. Blood spurted. Gushed. Fathers and their daughter and betrayal heavy in the air. The rise and fall of your beautiful stag’s chest, like a slowing pendulum.

( _Seeing_ too late.)

If you hadn’t needed a sacrifice, you all would be…

If you had shot him in his kitchen after that rather theatrical flinch, she would be…

If you hadn’t called him, he would be…

You imagine her. You have conversations, but they’re not the same. She’s only sometimes better than your "if this, if that" scenarios.

But where did _you_ touch him? Where did _you_ hurt him?

(His heart. His mind. Everywhere, he would say.)

They say it’s trauma. They say you’re traumatized. They say it takes time, but there’s no safety found in your home now. There’s no joy amidst wagging tails and warm tongues licking at your face

You fix a motor, but there’s no fix for your heart.

You fix another motor, but there’s no fix for your mind.

So, you sail across an ocean. To mend? To exact revenge? To _see?_


	2. Bones and all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this thing is apparently not going to be in order. Whoops.  
> Featuring birdies and wanking off. Ty Kokomo episode.

“Bones and all,” he confirms.

So you listen to him. You tilt your head to the side and in it goes - an endangered little thing - and you both feel and hear tiny bones crunch as you chew. It’s far more flavorful and delicious than you had anticipated. A debauched delicacy indeed.

(You wonder if it would taste different if the ortolan _hadn’t_ been endangered, but then again, the meat he serves you--)

His gaze is on you as you thoughtfully chew. He smiles when your eyes connect, obviously pleased by your enjoyment. Only then does he take his own songbird into his mouth and close his eyes. You watch him for a moment before glancing down, as if you were crossing some line by watching _him._ (Because it’s always the other way around, isn’t it?)

Right now, it’s so very clear that he’s in his own place. You know Hannibal is contented. You may be sharing a meal - sharing a moment - but you also know the instant you share your lie, the warmth you feel will leave you.

He shares that, after his first ortolan, he was euphoric. You’re not surprised. It’s such a Hannibal thing.

“A stimulating reminder of our power over life and death,” he explains.

So you share your crafted lie. After all, friendships are about give and take.

“I was euphoric when I killed Freddie Lounds,” you confess.

You may not have killed a certain fiery redhead with a penchant for tabloid journalism, but weren’t you euphoric killing a boy dressed up as a beast?

Of course it’s a conversation that he very much wants to indulge in. You’re a good fisherman and you know the bait that this predator likes.

* * *

You remember his eyes on you as opened your mouth wide and deposited the dead bird inside.

You wonder what it would feel like to have his eyes on you as you did other things.

A hand wrapped around your cock.

Fingers squeezing a trigger (again).

Fists crashing down against bone (again).

You’re in a cramped bathroom stall, your forehead against the door and your eyes are tightly shut. With clarity, you can hear him say, “I don’t hide from God, so don’t hide from me, Will.”

His voice stirs up desire and dread, two conflicting sensations that war to eat the other. You’ve never wanted to be watched, never wanted to stand out, and yet that keen interest held behind mild-mannered looks penetrates you in such a way...

(Your hand moves faster, desperate to get this over with, desperate to stop this twisted fantasy.)

“--just as the source of light is burning…” His voice echoes in your mind.

When you come, you think of being drowned alive in Armagnac and then roasted while he watches.

He hadn’t watched Georgia burn, but you think, if he were to ever find out about your deception, he’d watch you burn.

You zip up your pants and wash your hands. You have the charred corpse of Freddie Lounds to look at.


End file.
